


The Art of Seduction

by SadSasquatch



Category: bungou stray dogs, 文豪ストレイドッグス | Bungou Stray Dogs
Genre: Basically just sin. That's all it is, F/M, Nakahara Chuuya/Reader - Freeform, Nakahara Chuuya/you, Shameless Smut, fem reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 08:48:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15530601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadSasquatch/pseuds/SadSasquatch
Summary: Letting someone else have you would be a crime; especially when that 'someone else' is Dazai.





	The Art of Seduction

Seduction is simple.

Chuuya’s reduced it to a science; eleven easy steps for a one-way ticket into a pretty thing’s panties, or something like that. If he’s really, truly committed, and the lady of the hour has enough Jameson swirling through her perfectly proportioned body, he can narrow it down to about six.

Alcohol is key. Offering her something with a lime wedge and an alcohol content above 15% always breeds loose lips. (Both kinds). Flash her a smile if you want to keep her by you side, carved muscles if you want to keep her in your bed. Brush fingers when you’re reaching for the next glass. Brush thighs, next. Swipe your tongue against her lips. Drown her in your ocean eyes. And, if she hasn’t downed enough to be emptying her stomach in a potted plant by now, lead her somewhere with soft sheets and dimmed lights.

Viola! There you have it; a night of passionate love.

Unless, of course, you’re Dazai.

Then, you simply scan for the closest girl Chuuya’s heartstrings are tangling around, and fate will smash her flush against your gyrating pelvis sooner than she can down a single drop of the daiquiri you ordered for her.

Chuuya levels a glare at the tumbler clenched in his fingers as your laugh cuts through the melody of blaring music and clinking glasses. Fire burns his veins. Undoubtedly, his favorite sound; tainted because it clings to a stupid joke that dribbled from stupid Dazai’s stupid lips.

Chuuya’s jaw clenches as Dazai’s airy laugh rumbles alongside yours. Half formed thoughts tickle his mind: _slam that dumb fuck’s teeth in the pavement._

_Strangle him with his own bandages._

_Steal you away, dance with you in the parking lot under the moonlight._

_Decorate his bedroom floor with your dress…_

_Maybe the whiskey was a mistake._

_Letting Dazai’s fingers brush against your shoulder is_ **_definitely_ ** _a mistake._

_He wants to touch your shoulder_ _—_ _more than that. He aches to keep going, going…_

_down your collarbones…_

_cupping your breasts…_

_letting his fingers crawl over your perfect smooth stomach…_

_sliding into you…_

Chuuya’s forehead smacks the bar. Whether he’s too drunk for this, or not drunk enough, is a mystery; all he knows is that if he spends one more second staring at Dazai charming a pathway to your bedroom, he’s flattening the entire bar and everyone in it. Weary, Chuuya motions for another shot.

“Chuuuuuuuuuuya~,” the sing-song voice suddenly grates just above the music. Chuuya’s jaw clenches; one more shot’s not going to cut it.

Dazai materializes, elbowing his way through dancers lingering by the bar. Chocolate eyes glow as he plops down next to Chuuya. “Oh, alcohol!” he proclaims, swiping the shot before Chuuya has a chance to protect it. Shameless, he tosses it back before waving for another. “On mister hatrack over here,” Dazai proclaims, smiling innocently at the bartender. Chuuya growls. Fists clench. He stumbles to his feet, determined to litter the floor with Dazai’s teeth—until the fabric of your dress catches the corner of his eye. Chuuya spares you a glance; a mistake. He imagines a frown curling across your face; his anger withers. Beating Dazai to a pulp isn’t worth the disappointment that’ll leak through your eyes. He sinks back into his stool, slouching. Dazai chuckles, satisfied.

“I’m going to fuck her so hard,” he remarks offhandedly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the unbelievable spike in egg prices lately. Chuuya glares, eyes flashing.

“Shut the fuck up,” he warns.

“Maybe we’ll head over to your office. I can ask her to blow me in your chair, if that’ll make you feel you more included,” Dazai offers cheerfully.

“Fuck you, Dazai,” Chuuya growls, tossing back another shot. “You only want _______ because I do.”

“Oh, the fact that you’ve craved her for the past forever’s only a side benefit.” Dazai leans in, smirking. “Have you _seen_ those tits?”

Silence sinks over them as Chuuya glares daggers into his drink. Dazai sighs, pleased; winning’s far too easy where you’re involved and they both know it. Now his bastard partner’s just toying with him.

“We’re leaving to go fuck,” Dazai announces proudly, polishing off another shot. He stands, stretching. “She asked me to go hunt down her coat before we took off.” Dazai gives Chuuya’s shoulders a playful shove before strolling away. “Don’t worry,” he calls over his shoulder. “We won’t get cum on your office desk—I’ll ask her to swallow.”

Fire strands swim across the bar as Chuuya’s forehead smacks the dark granite. He’s going to beat that asshole into such a bloody pulp when your back is turned, no amount of bandages will be able to keep his scummy insides in one place. Blue eyes glaze as he stares at the wall. Drunk thoughts cloud his mind; he doesn’t notice you strolling over until your voice hums gently over the bar’s music.

“Chuuya,” you purr. Soft tones swim over Chuuya’s skin like velvet. He sighs, eyes sliding shut as you slide onto the stool next to him.

“Hmm?”

“Why do you let Dazai get away with taunting you?”

Sunset hair swishes wildly as Chuuya shoots up, clenched fists smacking the bar. “I _never—”_

_“Chuuya,”_ you point out, “you’ve been staring at us for the past hour and then you just sit here after Dazai prances over and starts poking at you? That’s just not you.” Your arms cross. Chuuya heaves a sigh before plopping an elbow on the bar. Out slips his bottom lip in a pout as he props his chin on his hand.

“Something wrong with just drinking in peace for once?” Sapphire eyes refuse to meet yours as he reaches for another shot. You raise an eyebrow as the liquid swirls down his throat.

“Oh my god, Chuuya, do you think I’m stupid?”

Alcohol burns his ability to think; his mouth just moves. “If you go home with Dazai, maybe.”

His words snap through the air like frost; for a split second, time freezes. Everything other than Chuuya’s venom halts. No heels clicking on the floor, no bartender tipping half-downed bottles into shot glasses. Just vitriol catching the sparks between you on fire.

Whispered words hum through the tension. “You don’t want me going home with Dazai?”

Suddenly his eyes snap to yours. Sapphire plunges shades darker, sky-blue swirling through his eyes drowning in waves of ocean-dark desire. Midnight gloves barely brush against your fingertips. Barstool creaking stabs the air; Chuuya’s leaning closer. Breath laced with alcohol tumbles across your skin as he breathes.

“No,” he rumbles. Fingertips drop off the bar, drifting down to rest on your thigh light as a falling sakura petal . He raises an eyebrow when you don’t bat him away. For a split second the pink of his tongue slides across his bottom lip; his teeth catch the carnation skin before he purrs.  “I want you going home with me.” His hand inches up, black leather smooth across your skin. Fabric nudges his fingertips; your dress bends to his will, crawling up your thigh.

You raise an eyebrow.

“That so?” He doesn’t respond; what more is there to say? Bar lights shine through his eyes as his hand pauses just below somewhere dangerous. _Who’s your choice?_ His sapphire gaze dares you to answer.

“Well, Chuuya, I have a confession to make,” you hum, leaning back in your barstool before tossing back the shot in front of you. Swallowing, you stand; he mimics you, stumbling out to his feet. “I don’t think Dazai’s coming back anytime soon.” Chuuya’s breath hitches as you lean into him, soft lips brushing his ear. “I didn’t wear a coat tonight.”

He flashes you a smirk, resisting the urge to slam you against the bar and fuck your brains out right then and there. Instead, Chuuya threads his fingers through yours, pulling you toward the exit.

_Thank god he lives close._

 

Chuuya barely gets past the front door before his mouth latches to yours. Alcohol cuts across your tastebuds, swirling with something almost sweet; maybe that’s just the high of his tongue coaxing shudders down your spine. A _thud_ echoes through the room as your back slams against the wall; his mouth shatters the gasp swirling in your throat. Greedy, hands fly to your hips. Fingers curl. As his tongue slips across yours, a knee sneaks between your legs. Firmly, he drags your hips across his thigh; black fabric sends delicious friction dancing across your skin. Hips crash. He grinds against you. Midnight gloves sneak lower, curling across your ass. Chuuya squeezes, swallowing your moan.

“Someone’s impatient,” you laugh against his lips, breaking away to gasp a breath. He chuckles, dark and velvet like smoke curling over water.

“We’ll see who’s impatient when you’re begging for me to fuck your brains out,” he purrs, lips ghosting your ear. Goosebumps tumble across your skin; your breath catches. Chuuya smirks.

Lips dive to yours; Chuuya’s tongue drags slow as molasses across the roof of your mouth. Suddenly, his muscles tense under your fingertips. Without warning, you’re lifted. Instinctually, thighs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind him. Chuuya nips your bottom lip, smirk widening as a yelp tumbles from your mouth. His hands swim back down, following your dress zipper until his fingers cup your ass again.

“Can’t have you falling,” he points out. Your tongue drags across the back of his teeth in response. Hands tangle through fiery strands, fingernails brushing his scalp. Smirking, you nip his bottom lip before tugging a fistful of his hair. A growl rumbles from his throat; heat spikes through your core.

_“Bedroom,”_ he snarls. You’re not about to protest. He coaxes your tongue back into his mouth; your eyes slide shut. Lighty, he sucks on your tongue, teeth grazing along the muscle like he’s trying to scrape your taste off and lock it forever in his mouth. Your eyes slip shut as he stumbles down the hallway; there’ll be time to appreciate his interior decoration some other day, when his hardening cock’s not pressing into your thigh.

Suddenly, he’s pulling back; before your tongue can miss his flavor his hands are clutching your hips, prying you off.

“Chuuuuuuya, _no_ ,” you whine against his lips. Your hips roll against his stomach. Friction bribes him to leave you wound around his waist. He ignores it. Diving back to your mouth, he nips your tongue, distracting. Hands snake up to splay across your stomach; his thumbs wind a tiny circle, relaxing. Then he _shoves._

Ripping from your throat, a tiny yelp tears the air as you stumble back. Desperate, you grab for his jacket; your fingers bunch in black fabric as you fall. Smirking, Chuuya lets you pull him down.

Your eyes squeeze shut right before the back of your knees collide with the edge of his bed. Pillows, soft as clouds, swallow you whole. When your eyes snap back open Chuuya’s looming over you, smirking. Sapphire eyes plunge darker. He’s drowning in desire, and staring at you tangled in winding lines of his sheets is like gulping in mouthful after mouthful of water. Heat blooms through his stomach; suddenly, he realizes suicide’s appeal. If death tastes like your tongue laced with alcohol, looks like your face flushed and panting underneath him, sounds like your chest heaving tiny gasps through the silence of his bedroom, he craves it.

“I wouldn’t shove you on the ground,” he rumbles, a sunset eyebrow raising.

“Are you ever going to stop talking and start fucking,” you tease, winding your fingers through his choker. You tug, dragging him until his knees press against the outside of your hips and breath laced with mixing alcohol and desire fans across your face. “or should I have brought my vibrator to do the job?”

His hand disappears in the folds of your dress. An eyebrow cocks, dangerous like aiming loaded pistols in the dark. Languid, like he’s racing the clock and trying to lose, Chuuya slides a finger over your folds. Friction scrapes over you as he drags along the fabric of your panties. He explores until he pulls a moan from your throat; his name echoes, melting through tension in the room. His other hands forces your hips down, refusing to let you buck against him. Another finger slides across you. Waltzing across your sweet spot, his fingers dance, gently rubbing circles. _Slowly, slowly, getting faster;_ he strikes your clit _just_ right. Tension builds. Heat coils through your limbs, pooling in the pit of your stomach. A breathy _‘oh,_ ** _Chuuya’_** breaks out of your lips. He smirks. His thumb joins.  

Suddenly, red glow winds across your legs. Scarlet vines crawl into your panties. Pressure vibrates against your clit. One moan, curling like smoke out of your lips tumbles into two; within seconds broken consonants flood from your mouth. Chuuya’s instincts whisper what you mean— _keep going_. Vibrations rumble across your clit, teasing heat spilling through your core. Your tongue tries to wrap around Chuuya’s name but his fingers keep going, going, _going, and oh my god, it feels so damn good, if he keeps touching you like that you might die, but will it matter, does anything other than the leather over his fingers and his tongue dragging across your neck matter, you don’t think so, you_ ** _can’t_** _think,_ _oh my god oh my god he needs to keep going, oh_ ** _chuuya,_** _right there, never stop, keep going,_ ** _oh my god_** _he’s good at this, oh my god,_ ** _oh my god_** ** _—_**

Tension snaps. Screaming fills your ears; something’s in your mouth and the noise stutters to a halt. Your legs shake; _hard_ . Trembles cascade across your skin, goosebumps pebbling in their wake. Breathing comes in tiny gasps; your lungs can’t gulp enough air. Fire swirls over your skin. Your pussy’s pulsing, clit’s pulsing, _everything’s_ pulsing. Chuuya growls; his tongue crawls up your neck. Wet paths wind up to your ear; his teeth sink into your earlobe. His fingers shift across your tongue— _so that’s what’s in your mouth._ When he slipped his gloves off, you’re not sure, but your own taste lingers sweet on his fingernails.

“Can your vibrator do that?” he whispers, an arm pressing like a prison bar across your hips. He traps you against the sheets, simply drinking in the sight. You writhing underneath him, fists tangling his bedsheets, hair fanning out over his pillows and sticking to your forehead; it’s a view he could get used to.

You pull a trick from his book, responding with a palm rubbing over his crotch. A smirk cuts your face when he shudders, eyes slipping shut. Under your fingers, he tenses; muscles harden as your hand dances light circles, teasing him through the fabric of his pants. _He’s already close just from fucking you with his fingers; your clothes aren’t even off yet._

Perhaps he hears your thoughts; cold air suddenly slices across your skin. The melody of ripping thread fills the room, a gasp falling out of your mouth. His lips fly quickly back on yours, tongue sweeping away extra thinking as he slips tattered fabric off your body. Tearing clothes is a pleasant music, sure, but his favorite symphony is your little whimpers rolling through his mouth as his hands roam your skin.

“Chuuya,” you whine when he tears away, gasping, to pull off his pants. “That was a new dress.”

“Baby, let me keep going and I’ll buy you more new dresses than you can count.” Away go his pants. He raises an eyebrow, ignoring your pouting lips as he hooks his thumbs through your panties. Tugging, he slides them off, tossing the soaking fabric to the side.

“You’ll just tear them off again,” you protest. He slides off his boxers; you do your best not to let the sight of his cock, _so damn hard for you,_ shatter your little rebellion right then and there.

“Are you saying you won’t enjoy it?” He crawls over you again, one hand threading through tresses of your hair. The other snakes down your stomach. His thumb rounds your belly button, dipping in once, before dragging downwards. His thumb and forefinger brush against your clit, slowly, languidly. Chuuya starts circling again, hitting that sweet spot _so so good;_ tension piles back up, flooding the pit of your stomach. Over and over, his fingers twist just right. One time bringing your body over the edge, and he already knows your pussy so well. Moans tumble out of your mouth. Satisfied, he smirks.

“Wet enough?” he prods, eyes questioning. Silently, you nod; you want to push him back, press him into the pillows and run your tongue over his cock until he’s shaking. Tease him over and over, pulling him away from the edge time after time. If your soaked panties say anything, though, it’s that he’s been a good boy. Breathlessly, you nod.

White flashes as his smirk catches the light. Teeth dip into your collarbone; just enough to give you something to admire in the mirror tomorrow morning. Fingers pull against your scalp. His fist bunches, your hair threading through his hand. You gasp; his tongue circles the bite just as he slides in.

“ _You’re so tight around me,”_ Chuuya dusts a moan across your neck. _“Your pussy’s so good against my cock, I’m getting chills.”_

His hips roll, crashing against yours, pulling moans to float through the room. Quickly, his lips move to yours before he pulls back. Ecstasy spikes his movements; his hands roam, straying all over this way and that like snowflakes drifting in December wind. One second, he craves your breasts; his thumbs roll over your nipples until a moan rolls out of your mouth. Suddenly, his fingers crave other ways to send galaxies across your rolling eyes. Away they drift, dragging goosebumps across your ribs.

He kisses another shiver down your spine; the cord coiling, coiling, coiling in your stomach frays as he thrusts. _In, out, in, out, in, out._ Hips roll; languid, almost slow. He’s picking up speed. _Faster, faster, in, out._ The pace tumbles to something erratic, dangerous; he can’t shut up now, growling as he tugs you up to sit on his cock.

A scream tumbles out when he slams against your sweet spot. He growls, yanking your hair. As you moan he detangles his fist. Hands swim along your curves before fingers crawl over your hips, winding like vines. He latches on. Rolling his hips, he lifts you. Mischief pulls his features into a smirk; he sweeps an innocent kiss across your lips before slamming you down, _hard._

Shudders tingle through his limbs. Control’s slipping away; you won’t stop screaming as he fucks you, _“Chuuya, chuuya, oh my god_ **_chuuya,_ ** _”_ and your voice is destroying him. Coils in his belly wind tighter, tighter. Sapphire eyes fix on your tits. A growl grinds out of him as your chest heaves, deliciously bouncing in time with his thrusts. _He’s right on the edge_ _—_

A final scream rips out of you, weak and broken. Your pussy throbs around him, pulsing as your legs tremble. _Too much, it’s all too much;_ Chuuya snaps. Burying his face in your neck, he shudders. Teeth prick your skin as your pussy squeezes him, wringing every last bit of pleasure free. Breathing heavy, chest heaving against your warm skin, slick with sweat, he rides out his orgasm. _You’re so hot and tight around him; nothing compares to the feeling of his cock, throbbing inside you._ His mind falls to pieces; all that matters is your smell mixing with his, your warmth around him, the pleasure flooding his body. His hips roll on their own; delicious friction floods goosebumps across his skin. Slowly, slowly, his breathing evens out; Chuuya spreads one last, sloppy kiss across your bruising lips as the final waves wash over his head.

_Seduction shouldn’t be this simple,_ Chuuya thinks as he collapses next to you, chest heaving. _At least, not for a girl like you._

When he looks over to see you panting, tangled in his sheets and nothing else, though, he can’t complain.


End file.
